Inside Westminster: Tales of Hubris and Betrayal No 6
by mrsordinary54
Summary: 'An Elephant Never Forgets' is a parody of the shenanigans of the British political 'elite'


§INSIDE WESTMINSTER: TALES OF HUBRIS AND BETRAYAL

6

ELEPHANTS NEVER FORGET

As Mandy opened her eyes, she groaned. How had she got herself into this mess: the lies and deceit caused by her affair with Ptolomy Trudge-Jones had begun to get to even her.

She'd caused the break-up of countless marriages in the past but hadn't cared less. Silly wives should take heed from her and anyway, if their husbands had strayed from the 'nest' with her, why, they would have strayed with other women too. So it was hardly her fault. That's how she'd justified her actions. But this time - well - things were different and the silly man had actually left his wife.

And it was all over the papers. Endlessly.

It's not that she was having second thoughts about her actions; it's just that, for the first time, there were 'consequences'.

Her parents, for a start, had given her an ultimatum: leave him or never come home again. She'd never seen them so angry that last time she'd gone home after her tryst with Potty in the rather swanky hotel that they'd taken to booking. Her mother had actually tried to pull her hair and daddy had threatened to stop her allowance - now that was a threat to be taken seriously.

Mandy had learnt early on that providing one had sufficient funds, most people would put up with a lot - disloyalty, lies, cheating. Providing you could offer a 'say sorry' treat, most could be won over.

At school, she'd got away with murder…literally. And anyway, all the girls and enough of the staff had known not to cross her.

But going to Sri Lanka ostensibly to save some pesky elephants, far away from the Tory party conference, had taken quite a lot of planning and expense. She'd been forced into this duplicity because she'd become the centre of the paparazzi swirl; at first she'd felt elated, inspired but it was actually becoming increasingly intrusive and boring. And they were beginning to dig up some real dirt: like the time she'd stolen her headmistress's watch and sold it on eBay. How had the Press found that out?

Anyway, she'd managed to give everyone the slip and Potty had promised he'd fly to be with her straight after his wretched conference speech.

It was supposed to deliver a fatal left hook to poor old Theresa but as she watched his performance on her smartphone she really felt quite underwhelmed. Was Potty losing his touch, going soft or worse losing his 'oomph'. She'd have to delve deeper when he got to the hotel.

She, on the other hand, was already in 'indulge' mode and was soaking in a hot bath with a glass of Bolly. Sod the smelly elephants; they could wait till tomorrow…or possibly the day after. Perhaps she'd better wait to turn on her 'saviour of endangered species' mode till there were some worthwhile photographers around.

And she certainly wouldn't be making the same millinery mistake as dear Melania had done – a pith helmet, of all things. Who were the First Lady's wardrobe advisors?

Back in UK, poor Potty had had a really terrible time; having been kicked out of the family home by Sophia and followed mercilessly by the paps, he literally was a mess. He hadn't eaten properly for days and was writing his newspaper columns, his diaries for a 'reveal all' book deal to be published next year, all over the place. He kept forgetting to charge his laptop, so when a snatched moment in which he could concentrate came, technology let him down.

And worst of all, he was beginning to feel decidedly unkempt to the point where even he felt a little whiffy. And he couldn't nick Sophia's deodorant.

Sophia would have been on top of all of that but, never mind, onwards and upwards - Potty had never been one to dwell on bad things and he certainly wasn't going to start now. He had deadlines to meet and, crucially, his trip to Sri Lanka to fund. He'd tried to conjure up a reason for his constituency office to cough up towards it but couldn't dream up a reason for them to support the work of the Sri Lankan Council for Endangered Wildlife.

One note of success: he had managed to slip the coded sentence into his speech so that Mandy would know that he would be on his way to give her a good rogering.

'Wildlife, especially the most endangered and intelligent of animals, the elephant, must be protected at all cost.'

His speechwriter just couldn't understand why Potty insisted on dumping this in his conference speech. What he didn't know was that Potty and Mandy had made a sort of dare for him to include their secret message of 'love'.

And what Potty didn't know was that Mandy was already toying with the idea of dumping him: he lacked two absolute prerequisites in a long-term relationship; serious money and proper ancestry. Why the man was only upper middle class and Mandy had always aspired to marry into a family with solid wealth and glittering forebears.

In blissful ignorance, guided only by his need for sex, Potty battled on. Not going was out of the question as he was getting beside himself with frustration and had actually considered visiting one of those sleazy joints in Soho.

He'd managed to deliver quite an erudite speech on the fringe, and it had been a full house. As an added bonus his arrival at the venue had caused quite a scene. Free publicity – and he hadn't even opened his mouth! He hadn't delivered a knockout punch to Mrs M but, considering his dire personal circumstances, he felt pleased with himself.

Anyway, now to the pressing matter of shagging Mandy senseless. He couldn't think of anything else and so booked his flight (business class, of course) post haste. But his payment was rejected and so he found himself again round his dear old dormie's house. Willoughby Knight-Johnston had never let him down.

'KJ, old chum….'


End file.
